


Queen, Knight

by wynnebat



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/F, Flirting, Grief/Mourning, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after V-Day, the world doesn't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "sleepless" over on [fan-flashworks](http://fan-flashworks.dreamwidth.org/).

The day after V-Day, the world doesn't sleep. There isn't a single hospital that isn't full to capacity, or a person who doesn't grieve, or a child too young to know what their hands look like, when covered in blood. Tilde lets herself have one night, one beautiful night where she's a woman instead of a princess, and then she gets to work.

The royal palace has already been cleaned when she arrives, its remaining staff dutiful in their mourning. She kneels before the silver throne, first on one leg, then on two, and she shakes and she cries and she knows in her heart she isn't meant for this. She's popular and charismatic, but a day ago, she was sixth in line for the throne. She would've spent her life a sportswoman and a politician, gladly.

But the king is dead, and the queen is dead, and her family is gone. The line of succession is utterly ruined. But more than that: she'll never hear her grandfather's chiding tone, she'll never cry in her mother's arms when a boy or a girl breaks her heart (because they always find a way; she's never quite been able to learn to keep herself from falling in love), she'll never kiss her niece's brow, nor shriek as her nephew plants a frog in her slippers. She's alone in this room. The silver throne casts a shadow over the room, and doesn't call to her. She remembers falling into it in tiredness as a teenager and jumping into it as a girl. Her father had told her never to hope she becomes queen.

"Long live the queen," her new right hand says, when she calls him in. Tilde doesn't know his name.

"Prepare for a coronation," she tells him, and her cheeks are finally dry.

"Yes, your majesty."

He tells her things she doesn't want to know, though she never stops him: her family is being prepared for burial—closed casket, her closest living relative is a cousin whose relation to her she doesn't even remember. With so many dead, the time of royal families might just be over. But no one's come to take her crown, so she'll put it on and rally her country and try to turn this new world into something she can bare to live with.

She's been awake for almost two days when she finally finds a room to sleep in, one without the stench of blood or cleaning supplies. There are more guards outside her door and patrolling the grounds than she's ever had need for, but it quiets something in her to hear their occasional voices and footsteps.

The quiet fades as she hears a click on her window, then two, then a thump as the pane hits the wall. Tilde smiles just a little when she hears an annoyed, muffled, "Shit!"

Her amusement doesn't stop her from picking up her gun from her bedside.

"Can I help you?" Tilde asks, instead of calling for her guards.

The intruder finishes climbing through the window, doing a backflip to land on her feet. She's completely silent as she hits the ground. Once she's upright and her long hair is settled in place, Tilde notes that her intruder is a very pretty woman, despite half her face being one big bruise, and her clothes bearing marks of mud and tears.

Tilde can almost feel her glare as the intruder says, "Princess Tilde?"

Her intruder is pretty, despite her annoyance and her messiness. But Tilde's almost a queen, and she's too tired for the attraction that flickers inside her.

"That is me," Tilde replies.

The intruder nods. "Eggsy asked me to make sure you got home alright."

It's very sweet. A bit too sweet, because despite some fabulous sex and an even better rescue, Tilde hasn't actually known Eggsy for very long. Still, it's a better reason than an assassination attempt to have an intruder in her room, so she just says, "Tell him to come himself next time; it'll be much more fun."

"I'll tell him to bugger off, next time," the woman says, huffing a breath. "I'm not a messenger girl, even if I had a mission nearby."

"Too pretty to be a messenger girl," Tilde agrees, because really, when has her libido ever actually listened to her brain? And maybe, quite possibly, her mood could do with a little cheerful flirting. "Are you a spy like Eggsy?"

"Yes, though I have to say, we're not all as pretty as I am." The woman's smiling. "I'm Lancelot."

Lancelot. For a pseudonym, it's quite nice.

Perhaps Tilde has a type: pretty, secretive spies. She can go a little more without sleep, Tilde decides.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [fan-flashworks](http://fan-flashworks.dreamwidth.org/) prompt "dirty".

An invitation is on the tips of her lips— _you look tired, would you like to stay the night?_ —to be said with an easy motion of opening her covers and allowing her bare legs to peek through. If her intruder is one type of woman, she'll remove her clothes and lie down under the covers, kissing her way down Tilde's skin. If Lancelot is a different type, she'll say thanks for the offer and fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. Perhaps Lancelot would even turn her down; rejection is good for the ego, Tilde knows, despite not being very familiar with it. But once Lancelot takes a step closer, moonlight illuminating her body more clearly, Tilde decides on a better option.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" she asks, already pushing herself up and off her bed.

Lancelot rolls her eyes. "Do I look that bad?"

"You're beautiful, the parts of you that I can see through the mud and bruises," Tilde tells her, striding towards the second door in the room. "Coming? Or are you in a hurry?"

"I could stay," Lancelot says.

Her back to Lancelot, Tilde smiles, and enters the small adjoined room that holds a bath large enough for the two of them to swim in quite comfortably. She twists the knobs with a deft hand, remembering a time when visits to this palace meant stuffy formal appearances whose boredom could only be washed away with an hour's soak in a tub almost like this one, in her family's wing of the palace. The robe she wears is as hers as the room, frumpy and flower-adorned. Tilde shrugs it off, allowing it to fall to the floor. When she steps into the tub, the water's only ankle-deep, but its warmth spreads up around the room.

And when Lancelot settles in beside her, similarly nude and just as lovely as Tilde thought, Tilde reaches for a sponge. Later, once free of the remains of her mission, Lancelot leans in for a kiss.

The next morning, Tilde awakens in her bed, her hair still just a little damp. The mattress beside her is cold and empty of a certain spy, but Tilde can't bring herself to mind. She has a country to bring back into shape, after all.

And, Tilde has a feeling this isn't the last she'll see of Lancelot. She's looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Complete; no sequel planned.


End file.
